


Stowaway

by peppermintquartz



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Jack Sparrow cameos, M/M, they are all pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-24 08:40:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1598609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peppermintquartz/pseuds/peppermintquartz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Sam Winchester had thought their father was lost at sea. However, John Winchester had just sent his sons a faded old map, a weather-beaten journal, and an amulet. He just didn't put in an address.<br/>"We've got to find him, Sam," said Dean. "He's alive."<br/>Sam sighed. "Dean, we have only that one small ship. Dad could be anywhere in the world. If he can send us that, then he can come home."<br/>*<br/>a one-shot featuring Dean, Sam and a stowaway named Castiel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stowaway

For five years Dean and Sam Winchester had thought their father was lost at sea. However, John Winchester had just sent his sons a faded old map, a scrap of paper with the word 'west', and an amulet. He also didn't put in an address.

"We've got to find him, Sam," said Dean. "He's alive."

Sam sighed. "Dean, we have only that one small ship, and we can't afford to sail after you challenged Benny to a drinking contest. Besides, Dad could be anywhere in the world. If he can send us that, then he can come home. Or he can wait until we earn enough to stock up on provisions and hire a crew."

The older Winchester brother ignored Sam's words and started grabbing his gear. Sword, guns, powder, daggers, Jack's compass... He mentally checked them off as he strapped on his harness belt and slipped on his shoes. For the past five years he had feared that his father was dead, and for five years he had not left Tortuga, terrified that John would return and not find them. He had been waiting for a sign that John Winchester was alive. Now the sign had arrived, together with a map.

Hell if he would wait another day.

"Dean, come on," said Sam. "We can't just go haring off-"

"I have everything prepared, Sammy. I've been keepin' some money aside with Bobby and Rufus, and they can kit us out within the hour." Dean paused and stared at his younger brother. "You coming?"

His younger brother worked his jaw and then nodded sharply. "Of course."

*

Dean and Sam were everything to each other, ever since they had fled Cozumel when it was attacked by Azazel's Yelloweye crew. Their mother had been abducted as the family were running from the fires. John had had to choose between his sons and his wife that night. But when Azael hung MAry Winchester from his prow as a trophy... John had sworn vengeance then. That had been eighteen years ago, and Sam had been but a toddler just learning to walk. 

Five years ago, John Winchester boarded the  _Phoenix Witch_ to work with the captain Crowley. They had heard nothing of the  _Phoenix Witch_ or its crew since. 

Sam had grown into a strapping young man, polite by nature but a vicious knife fighter when provoked. He was tall, and occasionally some brutes who had something to prove would challenge Sam to a round or three, but they had to be roaring drunk to even consider taking on someone towering at six foot four. He was also smart, and with Bobby Singer teaching him to read and write, Benny Lafitte teaching him to reckon, and Bobby's wife Ellen teaching him how to be a good man, Sam Winchester had become the pride of his brother's eyes.

Over the years Dean had matured too, broadening at his shoulders and jaw, but time did little to harden his features. Even now, newcomers to Tortuga - the press-ganged gang, as Benny called them - would try to chat him up because he looked 'prettier than them ladies there'. He learned to knock a man out with a single punch, and when a man was down his pockets were unguarded, so Dean learned how to defend himself and earn some gilt while hoping for news of his father. The only one who flirted extensively with Dean and never got hit for his troubles was sly Jack Sparrow. Jack had the best stories to tell in all of Tortuga.

One night, while the two had been drinking in the back of the tavern during a lull, Jack had given Dean his special compass.

"That," the older man had drawled with his trademark smirk, "will take you anywhere your heart desires. _Anywhere_."

"So if I wanted to find Dad-"

"Well, it ought to show where daddy went now, hmm?"

But in Dean's hand, the compass needle had swung clockwise and anticlockwise. Jack had seemed puzzled, but made Dean keep the compass all the same. They had proceeded to enjoy the rum (and then each other) until Benny had come in and put a stop to the fun.

*

Bobby Singer tossed a heavy bag at Sam and another one at Dean. "For protection."

"We have weapons," Dean pointed out.

"And that would be useful if you're goin' up against men, but against the supernat'ral, you boys ain't got a single thing. C'mon. Your supplies are already headin' to the port. Rufus got his crew to cart 'em in." Bobby hobbled around, his peg leg clacking against his slatted floor, and picked up a thick book. "Sam, I taught you your letters, see what you can make of them marked pages. I'd've deciphered more of it, but since you boys want to set off wi' the tide, I figured you should do the readin' bit."

Sam smiled. "Thanks, Bobby."

"Ach, save it. Come back alive, you hear? One year, boys, and then you come home. Ellen and I won't have you disappearing off th' edge of the world." The grizzled old man ruffled the taller boy's hair affectionately. "No one is worth that. Not even your dad."

Dean shot Bobby a look, but bit his tongue. Bobby and Ellen had taken care of their family when John turned up in Tortuga with the boys. Ellen and her daughter Jo made the best rum on the island, and Bobby repaired ships with his old sailing buddy Rufus. In fact, Dean wished sometimes that Bobby and Ellen had been his and Sammy's parents, and would feel guilty afterwards. 

He looked through the bag. "Charms, silver knife - neat, we could sell that if we need money -  _joking,_ Bobby, jeez. Vials of the Lord knows what. Bobby, what do you think we'll face out there?" 

"If that book is tellin' even half of the truth,  _everythin'._ " Bobby jerked his head. "Go hug Ellen goodbye, you brats. She'll come after you if you don't. Oh, and Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"What do I tell Jack when he comes knockin'?"

Dean's cheeks flamed. He knew that Benny knew, but he didn't know that Benny told Bobby, and from Sam's nonchalance Dean supposed his baby brother had heard as well. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "You know he don't form attachments. Just... I don't know, give him some rum and he'll leave it."

"Sure?"

"Yeah." Dean shouldered the heavy bag and strode out the door, wishing he had a hole to hide in. Still, he'd be away in a matter of hours, and the  _Black Pearl_ should still be sailing the Orient.

*

Rufus had done a good job of stocking the  _Impala._ Sam liked the sloop: she was fast and agile, and made traveling around the islands easy. Dean was the one who kept her shipshape though; he checked it every week, whether he was sailing or not, and made sure Rufus (who used the ship more than Dean and Sam) did not abuse it.

When the brothers got to the _Impala_ , they saw Rufus shouting at his men to hurry it up. 

"Rufus, thanks," said Sam, clapping the man on the shoulder.

"Eh, you boys can thank me by bringing in somethin' new." Rufus was a trader when times were good and a "private trader" when times were bad, but when push came to shove, Rufus was as good a privateer as any of the legends. "But you sure you can run her by yourselves? She's a testy one, and lord forbid you get into a bad storm. Since them pirate lords released Calypso - bless her - the seas ain't as easy as they used t' be."

"We'll sacrifice a virgin if need be," Dean cracked. "Sam, I hope you learned how to hold your breath."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Jerk."

"Bitch."

Rufus cuffed them both across the head. "Boys. Get on her and we'll help you cast off. Be a shame to lose you both, so sail safe. Lord be with you, lads."

*

Dean knew the _Impala_ from rigging to hull. He had patched sail for her and scrubbed its deck more times than he could count. In the past, it was him and his father working the vessel. After John had hopped onto the  _Phoenix Witch_ , cleaning and maintaining the  _Impala_ became something Dean did to remember the good times. Wind in his hair, sun on his skin, and the salt spray of the sea... Sam had not sailed much by the time John left, and what voyages he made were with Dean at the helm.

The  _Impala_ could be crewed by one man alone, if necessary. Its sleek hull had been built with the finest of Bermuda cedars, and its deep hull allowed quite a haul of goods. Dean was not morally opposed to a bit of piracy - living in Tortuga, he had met pirates who were good men (he did  _not_ think of Jack Sparrow, dammit) - but knew better than to challenge any ship with just him and Sam.

The  _Impala_ could be challenging to maneuver sometimes, but she sailed out without a hitch. The sails ballooned out, fat and cheerful, and the Winchesters got ready for a long voyage. 

Sam looked out to the horizon as he tied a strip of cloth around his head to keep his hair from his face, "What's our bearing?"

"We're headed west," Dean said. He unrolled the map and fished out the amulet that John sent. "It's going to be a week at least before we get to a proper port. Still, could be worst-"

He was cut off by the goat shrieking from belowdecks. The brothers looked at each other, confused. 

Dean unholstered his sword. "You stay up here, Sammy, and keep a pistol ready. If I ain't the one comin' back up, shoot it."

"Dean, why don't I go-"

"Because you're a larger target. And I'm the captain. Now shut up."

Dean tugged on a hat and carefully unlatched the hatch. The goat was no longer screaming, which was a blessing, but it could also be dead, which would be bad. He took the steps carefully, his sword angled across his body. Ever since Cozumel and Yelloweyes, Dean had not liked surprises. He would use his gun, but he did not want to shoot his ship.

The goat was reassuringly alive. Its large eyes glared balefully at Dean, as though blaming the young man for whatever had scared him.

There was a movement behind it.

Dean ducked into the shadows. "Whoever you are, come out with your hands up. If I have to get over there, I'm going to be really annoyed, and sailor, you don't want to see me annoyed."

Nothing moved, except for the goat.

"All right, do it your way," Dean muttered. He drew out a serrated knife from his belt and crept forward, ducking around the cargo. The soft creaking of the  _Impala_ masked the click of his boots. Just as he rounded a crate to the goat's pen, he was grabbed around the waist and hurled backwards into the floor. Dean hit his head but he kept a deadly grip on his blade. He swung it around as he scrambled to his feet, nearly slashing the attacker.

Sam must have heard the commotion. "Dean!" Sam's shadow fell across the hatch.

"Stay out!" Dean yelled. "C'mon, you bilge rat, show yourself!"

To his surprise, the attacker spoke. "I would, but you must promise not to hurt me." He had a deep, gravelly voice, and an accent that Dean couldn't place. 

"Yeah?" Dean retorted. "You attacked me first."

"You came at me with a sword. I defended myself preemptively."

"Big words."

"Do you promise?"

Dean considered the options. If it was a threat, then he could always get him "All right. I won't hurt you unless you try to hurt me."

"Fair enough." A young man dressed in stained white robes stepped forward into a patch of light. Dean's jaw dropped. Even in the dim interior of the hull, Dean could see that the young man had the bluest eyes he'd ever seen, and a short mop of messy black hair. They stood staring at each other for a minute. 

Finally, Dean said, "Come on up with me."

"I... thank you. For not shooting me."

That reminded Dean. He jogged up the steps and was met with Sam's gun.

"Whoa, easy there, buccaneer," he said. "We got ourselves a stowaway. Hey, come on up."

The young man came up hesitantly. In the sunlight, his robes seemed grayer and more faded, but Dean was not looking at his clothes. The eyes that had seemed so blue belowdecks were now positively, blazingly sapphire. 

Sam looked taken aback. "Oh. Uh... who are you? What's your name? And why are you on our ship?"

All questions that Dean should ask, but the older Winchester was still staring.

The young man swallowed. "I am Castiel. I am a priest."

"You don't look like a priest," Sam pointed out. 

"Not of the Church." Castiel licked his chapped lips. Dean had hold his breath for an instant. Castiel tugged at his robes. "These were... these aren't my clothes. I stole them last night."

Dean cleared his throat. "It's all right, Sam. We could do with an extra hand here."

"Dean, a moment?" Sam pulled his brother aside and whispered, "He could be a murderer for all we know. You want to keep him aboard?"

"What choice have we? Sail back to Tortuga and dump his sorry arse on the port?" Dean said. "Look at him. He's smaller than either of us, and he's not armed. We'll be taking turns to sleep anyway, so why not?"

"We're going after Dad! Remember?" Sam waved the map and the amulet in Dean's face. "You want this - Castiel - character to come with?"

"What's that?" Castiel interrupted. "That amulet. Show me."

Sam tucked it into his pocket. "No. Why?"

"Sam, just-" Dean grabbed his brother's wrist and pulled out the amulet. It was a strange little thing: a bronze face with a horned helmet. There was no inscription on the back and it certainly looked nothing like a horse. He took it and let it dangle from his fist. "Here. You recognize this?"

Castiel came closer and his fingers brushed over the metal amulet. "I've heard of it, but I thought it was a myth."

"What is it?" It dawned on Dean that he was starting to trust this man, yet he knew barely anything about him, other than his odd posture and his stupidly brilliant blue eyes. 

"It's an amulet," said Castiel, "of the Order of the Drakones. The lore says that its members wore the faces of the seraphim around their necks, and that these direct the lost to the presence of God."

Dean glanced at Sam. "Never heard of the Drakones."

Castiel flicked his eyes over Dean's face. "I'd be surprised if you had. The Order died out eight hundred years ago, and only a few scrolls in the Great Library have information of them."

"Wait. Great Library? Castiel, you said you are a priest. A priest of what? And why did you come aboard our ship?" Sam grabbed the amulet from Dean's hands and glared at his brother. "Tell us right now, or I'll turn this ship around. Dean, don't start with me."

*

It took the better part of an hour.

Castiel said he was a priest from the Temple of the Apkallu, a minor sect that nonetheless protected an important relic. They had been hiding in Morocco for the past five generations. However, they had been betrayed by a priest named Enoch, and their enemies had come for them. Castiel had fled with the relic and had been hunted for the past eight months. Since he knew his enemies came from the deserts, he had taken to the rivers and the seas in the hopes of escaping them forever.

Three weeks ago, he had been tricked aboard a slave ship and had woken up in chains. The relic had been sold to an Englishman named Bartholomew, and Castiel had been powerless to stop them. The slaver had stopped by Tortuga four nights ago and Castiel had escaped with another slave. 

"Balthazar picked our locks," he said quietly, "and we jumped into the sea in the dark. He stayed on in Tortuga - no better place for a freed slave, he claimed. But I must head west to warn the other temples. They will need to prepare and hide their treasures."

"And why did you have to steal clothes?" Dean asked.

Castiel flushed. "The slavers stripped us so we would be less inclined to run. Of course it was not as big a deterrent as it was supposed to be."

Suddenly, Dean could picture the priest without his dirty white robe, heavy iron shackles around his ankles and wrists, and a rough surge of protectiveness and something darker rose inside. He had to avert his gaze. Scanning the sky, he said, "Wind's going to change. Let's get her sails up. Castiel, if you want to stay on the  _Impala,_ you'll have to pull your weight. Follow Sam's instructions, and I'll find you something better to wear later." 

Dean ran back to the helm to collect his wits. He didn't trust easily, but for some reason he had no doubt that Castiel was telling the truth. This lack of doubt bothered him. Once he ascertained the ship's bearings, he concentrated on sorting out the sails and finding Castiel a set of shirt and pants. He would figure out why he believed in that strange young priest later, when he had the luxury of time.

*

Given that there were only three of them aboard the ship, the brothers soon accepted Castiel's presence, Sam less willingly than Dean.

The priest was usually the first to wake and the last to sleep, and could spend hours upon hours just staring at the horizon. For a desert dweller, Castiel had little fear of the open seas, and showed no signs of seasickness.

"It reminds me of home, all the emptiness," he admitted one night when they were cleaning a small catch of cuttlefish. "And the stars above are the same."

"We're looking for our father," Dean told him. Sam flashed him a disapproving look, but Dean went on, "You said the amulet was from the Dragons."

"Order of the Drakones."

"Yeah, that. Where were they from?"

"The lore said 'west to the mountains, on the highest peak, the Drakones cry the Trisagion'. There was a whole passage on what the Trisagion was-"

"-not needed, thanks." Dean breathed out. "West to the mountains. I don't even know what mountains it could be referring to."

Sam snorted and tossed his cleaned cuttlefish into the bucket. "You know Dad. He's never honest with us."

"Sam."

"Come on, he's left us to fend for ourselves. I know you want him back, but he's such a bastard sometimes." The taller Winchester tightened his jaw. "Sometimes I wish he'd really died. The _Phoenix Witch_ hasn't been seen for ages, after all, and that note could've been written before the ship was lost."

"The _Phoenix Witch_?" Castiel asked, bemused.

Dean flipped his cuttlefish into the bucket. "Ship our dad was on when he left Tortuga. He left me the _Impala_."

"Why did your father leave?"

"He's hunting the son of a bitch that killed our mom," said Dean quietly. "But we've not heard much of Azazel and the Yelloweye for almost a decade. I don't know what dad found out that got him to leave us behind like that, but... yeah. He must have heard something."

Sam was staring at Castiel. "What's wrong?"

"Azazel, you said?"

"Yeah. He and his crew sacked Cozumel eighteen years ago, but after a while there was no news of him. Not even of him hanging for piracy. I did wonder if his ship sank."

Castiel shook his head. "No. He returned to whence he came." His gaze was haunted. "He's the head of the _usji_ of the Daeva."

Dean blinked and raised his eyebrows. "You're using words I have never even heard of."

"Basically, he's the leader of the bad people," Sam said.

"Yes. Very bad people."

"And what does your relic?"

"It is hardly _my_ relic, Dean," said Castiel solemnly. He exhaled heavily and said, "It is a stone tablet, one of three that must be kept separate. Our temple brethren protected the Tablet of Angels. The other two are of Man, and of Demons."

Sam paused in the middle of peeling away the skin of the cuttlefish. "So what happens when the tablets are combined?"

"I do not know," Castiel admitted. "I have only served fifteen of my years and much was still hidden to me. I am telling you what I know so that you can understand the importance of my quest. I must find the other temples and warn them, or find this Bartholomew man and reclaim that tablet."

Dean tossed in the last cuttlefish from their catch. He wanted a wash and some sleep. "Well, we're already headed west to find dad. You can set off from where we make port, find your temples."

*

During Dean's watch the next night, Sam joined him at the stern. 

"Are you angry with me for what I said about Dad?" his younger brother asked.

Dean shook his head. "You're right. But I can't just leave it, Sammy. It's dad."

"I know." 

The two young men stared at the half moon overhead. The sea was calm; Dean considered making an offering to Calypso, just so she would send them on their merry way. 

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"You and Jack Sparrow... I mean, I've heard some things and, well..." The younger man trailed off.

"He's too old for me, Sammy." Dean snorted and took a swig of his rum. "Aren't you bothered by it? You're the good one of us two. My soul in fire and brimstone an' all that."

Sam laughed. "You're a good man, Dean. The good Lord looks at your heart, not who you bed."

"Not that there was a bed, most of the time-"

Sam covered his ears. "Spare me the details." Then he said solemnly, "I've been reading Bobby's book. So get this: the map that was sent with the amulet, you know the odd words scribbled around the edges? The markings on it matches a spell in the book, and the spell is an exorcism spell."

Dean straightened. "Exorcism? As in, getting rid of a demon from a person?"

"Yes."

"What has dad got caught up with?" Dean blew out his cheeks. "This is going to be a long,  _long_ voyage, Sammy boy. I feel it in my bones."

Sam exhaled heavily and asked, "What about Castiel?"

"What about him?"

"Do you trust him?"

"He's all right." Dean shrugged, although his heart shouted ' _YES'_. 

His sibling was not fooled at all. "You know, I am a fairly sound sleeper. And since you and Jack aren't in it for the long haul, maybe you can try Castiel."

"Sammy, it's not like that."

"I've seen you staring," said Sam, "and I've seen him staring at you. Like a lovesick pup, that one. While I prefer not to know your carnal preferences, I'd rather you have someone you trust. Besides, we're all headed west now. I'm sure you and he will have plenty of time to get to know each other."

Dean elbowed his brother roughly. "Shut it. Go and rest; you're useless to me when you're sleepy."

"Aye aye, captain."

*

The worst thing was that Castiel was so sincere. He tried his best to help with the _Impala_ , and his skin browned beautifully in the sun. He liked to listen to the brothers tell stories of Tortuga, and did not seem at all repulsed when Sam (possibly deliberately) recounted the time when Benny walked in on Dean and Jack in the back room. Dean had wanted to throw Sam overboard for Calypso then and there.

The priest, with all his solemnness and literal understanding of aphorisms, was a steadying presence that helped while away the long hours of their watches. Castiel also helped Sam out with some of the translations inside Bobby's book, and taught him some Latin. The three pored over the faded map, but were unable to make head or tails of it.

Early one morning, Dean served some fried fish to Castiel and took the chance to sit with him. "So what are your plans after we make port?"

"Head southwest," said Castiel. "I know where the Temple of Shekhinah is based. It would not be easy to find them, but there are clues which I can decipher."

"How did you end up a priest anyway?" Dean asked. "Did you always want to be a priest?"

Castiel's brow creased and his head tilted slightly as he pondered the question. "I was a sickly child. The healers of the brethren saved me from a fever which could have burned me up. Once I turned sixteen, I asked to join the temple, in gratitude for saving my life. The abbot allowed me to become part of the temple and I have served ever since."

Dean edged closer to Castiel. Barely a finger's width separated their hands now. "Is it anything like the Church? Vows of chastity and all that?"

"Oh, no," said Castiel. "We had to blend in with the citizens. I was due to be paired with a woman for marriage when Azazel attacked. In a way I am thankful that I did not get to marry her; I would never in good conscience leave my family behind, susceptible to threat."

"Did you like her?"

"She was pleasant. I could see myself wedded to her, but I doubt I could bring myself to father children."

"Why?"

Castiel smiled. "Because I would love them as fiercely as the sun bakes the earth, as strongly as the storms rage across these seas. My devotion to the temple will lessen."

Dean curled his fingers and forced the glimmer of hope in his chest to die. "You'd make a great father, Castiel."

"And you are a great friend, Dean," said Castiel with a forthright smile. "Thank you for helping me."

Dean's lips curled. "Do my preferences disgust you?" he asked, not looking at the priest. His throat was closing up. He had never spoken to a person other than Jack about this, and Jack was amoral and occasionally a bastard. Dean kept away from the Bible for fear of condemnation, but he knew he was already condemned by his own body.

"Should they? You harm no one. My disgust and hatred are left for those who harm others in their pursuit of pleasure. Azazel killed my brethren to satisfy his greed; that I detest and loathe. You love another man. That is harmless and possibly the saving grace for your partner. That I admire and respect." Castiel was smiling with understanding at Dean. he placed a hand on Dean's left shoulder and murmured, "You have no need to hate yourself, Dean, for the way the gods chose to make you love. And you have no need to turn me or Sam against you. I see that you are a good and merciful man. Show yourself mercy, and let the guilt go."

Dean got to his feet and retired to his room without another word. If Dean had wept with relief that day, no one would ever know.

*

By the time they made port, Dean knew he was a lost cause. Yet he had no reason to stay Castiel; the priest had a mission.

"So," said Dean softly. "West."

"Yes," said Castiel. "Thank you for bringing me here, Dean, Sam. The Apkallu bless you both, and safe sailing aboard the  _Impala_."

Sam glanced from his brother to the priest. "Castiel, you're just going to head out alone?"

Castiel nodded. "The brethren of my temple are gone, but the other two temples remain. I will travel easier now without needing to protect a relic, and Dean knows I can fight when I have to. Do not worry, Sam, I am well able to defend myself."

"But..." Sam looked at Dean. 

Dean made himself smile. "We'll be here for a bit, ask around to see if Dad's here. He'll have to be somewhere nearby to send that to us."

To Dean's surprise, Castiel  went up and hugged him, and then turned and hugged Sam. "Farewell, my friends. I have been blessed to know you both in my time of need."

"Cas, wait," Dean blurted. Then he licked his lips. What was he to say now that this man with the burning blue eyes was going to leave, possibly forever? He wished he had had time to learn more about Castiel, how he grew up, learn more about the way he smiled and create a chance to hear Castiel laugh. He would never have the opportunity now. "Uh. Take this." 

He pulled out the amulet and draped it around Castiel's neck. It sat on the hollow at the base of the priest's neck.

Dean grinned, though the expression was probably more of a grimace. "You need it more than we do. Stay safe, Cas."

"Dean, you need not give me this-"

"He's not giving it to you," Sam cut in. Dean stared at his brother, but Sam plowed on. "It's a loan. When you're done saving whatever you need to save, come to Tortuga and return it to us."

"Of course." The priest brightened and smiled warmly. It made something painful clench and unfold inside Dean's heart. Castiel's brushed his fingers over it and said, "I will protect it. I hope you find your father soon."

With that, the priest turned and strode away, without even a backward glance.

Dean could barely breathe. It was a chance. A small chance, of course, but a chance. He might see Castiel again, and this was a brighter hope than what he had nursed for John. An idea started germinating in his heart. It was a few minutes later before he could speak. "Thanks, Sammy."

"You're welcome." Sam stuck his hands in his pockets. "So. Shall we begin?"

"Sure. Just remember that I'm the captain, so follow my lead, all right?" Dean squared his shoulders and strode forward.  _Two months here. If we can't find him, then I'll gather up a crew, have Sammy sail back home, and then go looking for Cas._

_Damned if I'll waste away time waiting._


End file.
